Love through Stone
by Mach2K
Summary: Zelda has spent her life looking for him. When he returns, though, it is not in the way or for the reason she had hoped for. One Shot


Every day, she remembered him. He was the first person she thought of when she woke, and the last person she prayed for at night. His essence, the whole of him, was a tattooed memory on her skin.

Since his—since he left all those years ago, she had given him ten years to return. After that, she asked around from the roaming patrols of Hyrule if they'd seen hide or hair of the young hero. Always a negative.

So Zelda did her best to move on.

She married one of the neighboring kings, and they used their marriage to expand their countries, build diplomacy, all that good idealistic fluff. Political, of course, but Zelda found that her husband made her happy, and their daughter even more so.

And soon, it was forty years by. Zelda's mind, perhaps because of the ineffable strain of carrying the Triforce of Wisdom for so long a time, had begun deteriorating. Celia hired a matronly woman to follow the aged Queen Mother around the castle, and keep her from trouble. Deep inside herself, Zelda knew that she was losing it, but she felt more and more powerless to stop it. Even the collection of advisors for the Queen (the king having passed five years hence) was beginning to grumble that she was rapidly losing her ability to effectively rule.

Celia was, surprisingly, not much like her mother. She had her father's dark hair and eyes, and Zelda's height and build. But she had her own sharp mind, diplomacy and political prowess groomed into her at Zelda's insistence, military understanding at her father's, and a shrewd, calculating coldness that neither of them had possessed. It was entirely her own.

Now, she was walking through the castle marketplace with a mind for getting herself some harmless bauble. Her eyes alighted on a sun-bleached, torn, curious piece of paper, nailed to a pole that held up the canvas over a stall. She ripped down the paper and looked it over, narrowing her eyes.

Twenty-five years ago, Zelda had ordered fliers to be strung around the majority of Hyrule, advertising a hefty reward for any way to contact a young man named Link, and more if he was brought to the castle alive. It had, at first, sent the town into an uproar. Was he a murderer? An assassin? A spy for the dreaded southern continent of Rotille? But the insistence that he be brought alive, and that the note depicted Link quite positively, indicated that he was of a safer breed. People worried less, but kept an eye out.

Celia had been seeing the fliers since she was a child, and could remember the fight her parents had over them, shouting at each other in their private chambers, not knowing Celia was listening right outside the doors. The king was convinced it was some old flame, that his wife had gotten bored with him and their life. Zelda promised him that Link was little more than an unrecognized war hero. The king would not buy it, as he did not know what war she even meant. Hyrule had the longest stretch of peacetime out of any of the continents.

"I swear on my life and soul, Landin, that I love you, and only you. If I were to go looking for a once lover, I certainly would not advertise for him all over Hyrule! I demand more credit than that!"

The king believed her, and said no more about the fliers.

Fifty years since she'd last talked to him, twenty-five since she started asking for help in finding him. All that time, waiting and watching, and secretly wishing for his return. It was about to pay off.

-

Zelda looked up from her breakfast, her blue eyes no longer as bright, her golden hair streaked with white and grey, as the guard walked in. He bowed deeply to her and her matron. Zelda cleared her throat and gestured with one hand. "Go on, Phili."

Vonce had been called Phili for some time now. Zelda's dementia had a tight hold, and she no longer recalled that Phili had been retired for five years, Vonce taking his place.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Vonce answered. "There is a visitor, a man who requests your attention."

Zelda stood up suddenly from the table. Her eyes looked brighter than they had in a few years, and a glimmer of the old queen was back. "Take me to him at once."

The Queen Mother followed Vonce at a quick pace, her matronly keeper huffing and puffing to keep up. She burst through the heavy oak doors to the main hall, looking down its straight shot past the thrones and to the young man standing silhouetted in the doorway. Zelda gasped and rushed forward, her heels clicking. She did not get very far before she slowed down again, frowning. There was something… wrong about the man's anatomy, the shape and the height. When she got close enough to see his face, she realized that it was not Link after all, but a bearded man with brown hair and tan skin.

He bowed to Zelda, and this allowed her to look over him and to the simple wooden cart just behind the man, in which a figure lay at unnatural angles, slumped and silent.

Zelda stepped around him and rushed to the cart, looking down, putting one lined hand to her mouth. Link was in it alright. His eyes were closed, and his face was bearded with grey. His skin was pale, and if it had not been for the stillness, the _wrongness_ of Link being still of his own accord, he might've been sleeping.

Zelda reached one slow, shaking hand down and brushed Link's covered left hand with the tips of her own. Nothing. Zelda dropped to her knees and screamed, burying her face in her hands.

-

The farmer who'd found Link at the base of one of his trees was grateful for the reward Celia gave him, though it was a great deal less than what was offered on the crinkly fliers. When he complained, the princess looked him down coldly and answered, "the fliers wanted him alive."

Zelda was in hysterics. She was taken quickly to her chambers by the strong-armed guards, screaming and crying, screaming things they did not understand. She was speaking the royal tongue, which they knew, but it was the subject of her ravings. They held her in her bed with their powerful arms, careful not to hurt her, until she screamed herself out, fainting when she could no longer deal with the suffering.

Celia said nothing the whole time. How could her mother lie to her father? All those years of looking and hunting; how could Zelda not be having an affair? What else could cause such a snap?

After that, it was clear that Zelda was no longer fit to rule the kingdom. She took to shuffling the interior of the castle, talking softly to people that were either dead or did not exist. The advisors quietly and quickly stripped Zelda's titles and granted them to Celia. They told the old queen nothing; Celia found it was quite easy to get the rings bearing the Royal seals from her mother. She never even asked where they had gone.

However, out of mercy, Celia did one small thing for her mother. She had a marble statue crafted of the man Zelda had been looking so desperately for. Because, as Zelda passed her in the halls, Celia had heard her talking softly about the young man to her guard, Impa. Impa had been dead for fifteen years (allegedly, anyway. There were a few myths that the Sheikah were immortal). It was only a word, but it caught the princess' attention. "Hero." Celia went silent and started following Zelda. She didn't even notice her daughter was tracking her as she went on talking.

"He's a hero. I mean, really, if he is to be returning to us soon, I'd hope that he would appreciate such a welcome. He will get one from me no matter what he thinks; you and I know that Link more than deserves recognition for what he has done for this country. … Oh, I know he doesn't care about being recognized! But I want to do this for him! I can never tell him enough how I appreciate… I know, I'd love to do that much for him, but I couldn't. It… him and I, it wouldn't be right. You've no idea how much I wish it could be. But the council would never permit such a marriage. … At the very least, he should have a statue in the gardens."

The idea had wormed its way in Celia's mind, and rested at the back of her head, quiet and unassuming. The absolute clincher, that she would do such a thing for her mother, was a second of lucidity at high tea. Zelda was staring at her hot drink, and Celia was busily sipping, eager to be done and get away from her mother, start looking through the lists of possible husbands. She figured Zelda simply did not understand that there was tea in front of her.

"I never had an affair."

Celia looked up, surprised. Her mother was staring back at her, both of her old and gnarled hands folded together neatly on the table. Celia looked at her mother's birthmark, the one she did not share. "Mother?" she asked softly, to be certain the once-queen was talking to her.

"I was never with another man the way I was with your father." Zelda shifted her weight, leaning back. "Link was an old and dear friend of mine, who did great things for this country. I am the only person who remembers, and very soon, I won't even do that." Zelda looked away, wiping hastily at a tear.

Celia stared. Never had she realized that her mother understood that she was not sane, not ruling, and not fit to do so. She felt a twinge of guilt and compassion, and knew that she had to do something for her, even if it was something small, that only the queen would understand. It might be the last thing.

The unveiling was less than perfect. It was only the guards and some serving girls, Celia, Zelda, and the artist. He tore away the satin cover with a flourish, and Zelda looked up at the statue with the large, curious eyes of a child. "It's wrong," she said softly. The artist's face fell, Celia's jaw tightened, and the servants shifted uncomfortably. Zelda reached out with both hands, holding her palms towards the statue and looking it over. "Wrong sword, wrong shield… he's… too old. Too old."

Celia looked at the artist, who looked at Zelda. "Your Majesty," he said softly, "I modeled it exactly from the fliers and the sketches of the deceased, I swear. The sword and shield are the ones he was found with."

Zelda shook her head and sighed heavily. She looked suddenly to her left with an expression of surprise. "Really?"

The artist was confused; she wasn't looking at him at all. "Yes, Yo—

Zelda laughed and nodded. "You are right; it is the spirit of the thing, isn't it? Not so much the accuracy, but it does hold a certain… something of him."

Celia looked at her mother, and then the artist, who went silent and stared at the old queen in awe. "Well," she said quickly, to get his attention. "I think it is beautiful. You have truly outdone yourself, Michal." She led him back into the castle, and the rest of the party followed, save Zelda (still in the midst of conversation with an invisible person) and two guards.

-

The statue had been installed for a month, and to Celia's annoyance, her mother never looked at it. She still wandered the castle, but ignored the gardens completely. It was late one night, most of the castle asleep except for the occasional mouse the cat had not yet gotten. Zelda had been sleeping soundly, but now she was wide awake. Impa was waking her up, smiling and gently shaking one arm to rouse her. "Your Majesty," Impa said softly, "there is a visitor."

Zelda sat up, her eyes wide. "A visitor? For me?" She climbed out of bed and put on her slippers, quickly grabbing her robe and tying it tight. "But is it not a late hour for visitors?"

Impa shook her head. "I believe he is on time."

Zelda stopped cold, her eyes wide. "Him? He—he came back?"

"Just for you," Impa said softly. "Come now; do you still know your old tricks?"

They ghosted past the guards outside Zelda's doors, creeping through the thick shadows on silent feet. Zelda wanted to run, to fly to the main hall, but there was a deliciousness in the slow wait of walking to the heavy oak doors. Impa was always a step ahead of her, looking back to make sure Zelda was keeping up. Together, they pushed open the doors to the main hall. A bright, blinding light burst forth, and Zelda had to cover her eyes, squinting through her fingers. When it died down, she could see a shadow, a familiar, loping shape approaching her. Zelda gasped and felt her heart strings tighten painfully as she dropped her hands and stared into the light.

Link smiled at her in a familiar way. Here he was, the way she remembered him. Zelda cried out in surprise and flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tight. "Oh!" she cried out, shaking. "Oh! I thought you were gone! I thought I'd never see you again!"

Link held her tight, waiting as she calmed down and her few brief, frantic sobs quieted. "I'm here now, Your Majesty. You'll never have to leave my side again."

"Oh, but… but Link, I am a married woman," Zelda gasped, embarrassed.

"It's alright, Zelda," he replied, stepping back to look her in the face. "We're… we're in a place where that no longer matters."

She looked at him in confusion and amazement, and he nodded when the realization dawned on her face. "Oh."

He hugged her again, and she closed her eyes tight. The Sages that were long dead stood around them, smiling and applauding Zelda's return to the Sacred Realm. Above her head, she could hear the Goddesses singing.

-

It was fitting that Celia was the one who found her mother. She very nearly tripped over her, in fact, as she was lying dead in the wide-open doorway to the main hall. Celia dropped to her knees and shook Zelda violently, but it was no use; the queen was already cold and stiffening. Celia started screaming for guards; why there weren't any at those doors, she didn't know.

Despite the uneasiness of their relationship, Celia cried harder for her mother than she had for her father. Perhaps she pitied her mother in some small part of her heart; that up until the end she had (to Celia's knowledge) been delirious, lost, as wide-eyed and innocent as a newborn kitten, without her memories or the great expanse of wisdom Zelda had used to support her kingdom as best she knew how.

The whole kingdom was stunned by this news; as far as they knew, Zelda had been dead for a while. It rained for a week straight during the funeral processions, and the entire country of Hyrule was a monochromatic mess of black and grey. After she was safely entombed in the Royal Family mausoleum, Celia called up the old artist Michal with a second commission.

Zelda's statue was placed in the gardens as well; but not in the same circular grove as that other one. They were next to each other, but faced towards the castle and those who would be entering the gardens from there. Zelda's statue was carved to represent how she looked in youth, and though her hands were clasped in front of her skirts, she held a branch of ivy, the symbol for peace, and the looping astrological symbol for wisdom was carefully chiseled into an intricate pattern at the hem of her dress. It was just as beautifully done as that other one, and the soldiers and servants and even Celia bowed or curtsied deeply to it that day.

The funny thing though, that was whispered about and rumored and rarely witnessed, was that on certain days at sunrise, the statues were facing each other, and faintly smiling.


End file.
